


Meet Me In An Hour

by starlitcities



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Gift for the writing senpai, Friends With Benefits, Graduate School, M/M, Office Sex, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, These two are TA's, iwaoi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4828241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlitcities/pseuds/starlitcities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a few things Iwaizumi knows for sure.</p>
<p><i>One.</i> School grounds are desolate past seven at night. <i>Two.</i> There are certain things in this world that should never be used as lube.</p>
<p><i>Three.</i> There is no official record for fucking one’s fellow TA in various places on school grounds, but if there were, Iwaizumi would most likely hold that title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet Me In An Hour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuggestiveScribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuggestiveScribe/gifts).



> Happy belated birthday to my writing senpai [SuggestiveScribe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SuggestiveScribe/)! Here's some messy iwaois *finger guns*

There are a few things Iwaizumi knows for sure.

_One_. School grounds are desolate past seven at night. _Two_. There are certain things in this world that should never be used as lube.

_Three._ There is no official record for fucking one’s fellow TA in various places on school grounds, but if there were, Iwaizumi would most likely hold that title.

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi finds it almost impossible to keep his eyes trained on the stack of documents in front of him, even with a stick of cinnamon gum shoved between his teeth—because apparently it helps you focus, says a friend—and a cup of coffee in his hand. It is impossible to focus on much of anything when a person can feel two eyes burning into the back of his skull, and while Iwaizumi would _like_ to ignore those set of eyes, in truth, he wants nothing more than to turn around and give them the same kind of intensity.

But this damn research keeps calling his name, and if he doesn't have something substantial in the next few days for the next discussion, he'll be answering to more grunt work and sentenced to creating a curriculum for tiny incoming first years.

“Iwa-chan!”

There it is, the voice he was trying to ignore. Because once he let's him in, there's no kicking him out. It's not that he's a nuisance, Iwaizumi is just terribly weak when it comes to this one teacher's assistant.

“What'd you need, Oikawa?”

“How are your readings coming along?” Oikawa asks, eyes wide as fingertips dance across the table.

Iwaizumi's nostrils flare. Oikawa is obviously messing with him. He knows because the lab coat is completely unnecessary in this room, and yet here he is, sporting the long white fabric and making Iwaizumi bite his lip.

“Just fine, and yours?”

Oikawa tilts his head and purses his lips. “Well, I do have a lot. But unlike Iwa-chan, I stay on track with my work.”

“Oi, Assikawa—”

“But I also have a few extra things to do, professor gave me quite the workload,” Oikawa swivels around and leans forward, his eyes twinkling with something mischievous and voice filled with intention, “I was wondering if you could help me with some of it?”

Iwaizumi pauses from looking down at his page, looking around the room at the rest of the graduate students before tilting his head up towards his fellow T.A. “Will it take a while?” He asks carefully, a smile almost slipping when Oikawa gives him a solid nod of his head.

“These tests are going to need a pretty _thorough_ review.”

A grin splits across Iwaizumi's face. _“_ Sounds like quite a lot. I guess I could help you out.”

Oikawa's eyes sparkle as he glides his tongue across his bottom lip, pulling fingers through his tousled hair like some kind of model fresh off the runway.

“Meet me in an hour?”

Iwaizumi feels his pants twitch with excitement. There's almost no way he can focus on his damn readings now.

“Definitely.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Shades rattle against the door as Iwaizumi slams it shut and twists the lock in one fluid motion—a neat trick he’s perfected throughout the year—blinds switched closed to conceal the office. It’s not like anyone really comes down this far anyway, but while the thrill of potentially getting caught makes the sex hotter, they both agree they would rather leave their jobs intact.

Oikawa sucks in a breath, sharp, arm looping around Iwaizumi’s neck as he hoists him onto the desk, pushing aside whatever materials block their makeshift bed. With Iwaizumi’s mouth leaving hot, open mouthed kisses along Oikawa’s jawline and throat, neither of them flinch at the sound of a pencil holder spilling utensils across the floor, or the tinkling of broken staples scattering underneath the desk.

“W-Wait, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa gasps, words dying from his mouth and instead replaced with a heated groan as a hand tugs at his hair, exposing a spot on his neck that Iwaizumi has claimed more than once. “F—uck,” he hiccups, hands gripping the wood of the desk to hold himself upright. “Seriously, Iwa-chan—wait a second—!”

“ _What_ ,” Iwaizumi snarls, something visceral twinkling in his eyes, dark hazel and sharp as daggers, and Oikawa’s entire body tenses with excitement.

“Maybe we shouldn’t... _here_. I’m only renting this place out and—”

“And where exactly are we going to go looking like this?” Iwaizumi gestures to the both of them, clothes disheveled, skin flushed and already marked in enough proof that they weren’t just having a team meeting. Not to mention how awkward the room would become if they both sat around and waited for their sexual tension to fizzle out.

Oikawa relents with a nod, though in truth, he’s not sure he could even stop right now, not with Iwaizumi openly baring his carnal lust and drawing out every lewd part of Oikawa, right down to his core.

“At least help me clean up after, okay?”

“Of course,” Iwaizumi nods, tilting forward and trapping Oikawa’s lips with his own, further dissolving Oikawa’s bones into jelly.

Iwaizumi pulls back enough to allow Oikawa’s hands to tug and pull at his shirt, yanking it over his head and tossed into some obscure corner of the office. Those same hands return just as quickly to refresh their memory of the tawny, rippled canvas before him, begging to be decorated in shades of red and purple.

He does just that, marking Iwaizumi just shy of his collarbone, doing a poor job of suppressing a moan when Iwaizumi wedges a knee between Oikawa’s thighs. He slides into the touch and raises his head, labored breath passing across Iwaizumi’s jaw, diving for the spot just beneath his earlobe.

Iwaizumi shorts out something like a giggle with a grunt, disguising being ticklish with pleasure. It turns into a bit of a whine when blunt nails drag themselves down the contours of Iwaizumi’s chest and stomach, pulling hard at the front of his jeans and rolling hips together, mouth still working on that same spot.

Oikawa pulls off when he knows he’s left a mark that can’t be hidden, that will surely turn purple, that will have people asking questions and wondering just what kind of lover Iwaizumi has.

“Lean back for me?”

Oikawa slides himself further back onto the desk, snickering a bit as Iwaizumi works the rest of Oikawa’s buttons loose. His expression goes blank with confusion at the sound of Oikawa’s quiet laughter. “What’s funny?”

“No it’s just,” Oikawa’s eyes flicker from his open shirt back to Iwaizumi, “you’re such a gentleman.”

He doesn’t miss the light pink that dusts across Iwaizumi’s cheeks at the compliment, biting on his lip to conceal his smile. He slides his shirt off of his shoulders, jumping just a bit as warm hands glide along his sides. Iwaizumi’s hands are amazing; they almost seem to get better each time. Oikawa can feel his composure slipping faster the more they do this, and he’s not quite sure he’s opposed to it.

“Is that a bad thing?” Iwaizumi mumbles, gaze alluring and smug as he presses thumbs against two pink buds and watches Oikawa hiss and shiver, hips eagerly grinding against Iwaizumi’s in a halfhearted rhythm.

“No,” Oikawa breathes, “Great, actually. No one would guess you’re such an animal in bed.”

The upward slant of Iwaizumi’s mouth when he smirks makes Oikawa’s arms threaten to give out on him. Iwaizumi moves on without comment, descending Oikawa’s body, leaving plenty of love bites in his wake.

“Wait, you don’t want me to—?”

Iwaizumi just shakes his head as he kneels, fingers agilely working open Oikawa’s pants, working them off of his hips and pushing them away. Oikawa’s impatience grows when Iwaizumi mouths the outlining of his strained erection through shorts, giving him only a fraction of what he really wants,

“Seriously, Iwa-chan—”

Iwaizumi complies by rolling Oikawa’s shorts off, thumbs kneading at hips and mouth everywhere but where Oikawa wants him. Oikawa gives a small jerk of his hips to no avail, he doesn’t have enough leverage for that kind of thing, and watches as his cock lies heavy and hard against his stomach, completely ignored.

Oikawa gasps, slight pain tingling in his left hip from a newly placed bite. Iwaizumi always leaves one right there, just underneath the squadron of freckles, a reminder that he’s the only one that knows about this little beauty mark.

Iwaizumi lifts one of Oikawa’s legs over his shoulder, fingers digging into his thigh and sucking at the skin there, before he shifts to the other thigh and repeats the motion. Through a torturously slow period of being kissed and licked everywhere around his throbbing erection, a constellation of kiss marks have formed across the skin of his thighs, leaving him whimpering, jaw clenched in both pleasure and frustration.

But when Iwaizumi takes the first drag of his tongue, a long wet stripe, across the underside of Oikawa’s shaft, he feels it shoot like a bullet from his toes to his scalp, hands almost sliding off of their grip on the desk. “Iwa-chan, _please_ ,” he sighs, toes curling and begging for something more.

Iwaizumi gives it to him, mouth closing around Oikawa and cheeks hollowing, the noise of spit and precome slathered and sucked on Oikawa’s cock ringing through his ears and lighting a fire in his belly. “Oh god, _god…!”_ Oikawa shudders, pulling fingers through his hair like tousling it might help the heat flooding throughout his whole body.

Iwaizumi loves it, watching Oikawa come undone beneath him. He whirls his tongue around the slit and sucks at the head, the guttural noise rumbling out of Oikawa traveling down to his cock and making it twitch against the inside of Iwaizumi’s cheek.

“If you keep going like this, I’ll come— _oh my god_ ,” Oikawa chokes as Iwaizumi sinks over his cock, taking him to the back of his throat.

He frees one hand to grip his own crotch, refusing to come before Oikawa, or before he’s left the brunette well sated across this desk. Iwaizumi pulls off with a pop when he feels Oikawa’s hips twitch violently—a sign he’s too close—and brings his other hand up to squelch Oikawa’s orgasm in it’s tracks.

Oikawa lets out a mangled cry and arches forward, hands burying into Iwaizumi’s hair and pulling, tilting his head up to meet the gaze that had him in a bind from day one. Iwaizumi slants their mouths together in a sloppy kiss, letting Oikawa taste himself and pushing off of his knees. His tongue glides across Oikawa’s bottom lip and snares it between teeth, momentarily letting himself get lost in the feel of Oikawa pliant like putty in his hands.

There’s something to it, the way he leaves Oikawa looking like he’s been born anew each time they have sex, an addictive quality maybe. Iwaizumi internally leaps when Oikawa gives him that look across a classroom, the _meet me in an hour_ gaze, or when their fingertips brush sensually across the exchange of a coffee cup. The pure, wanton desire glazed in Oikawa’s eyes, warm brown with flecks of amber, set above a rouge that blooms across his cheeks and down his chest set off a switch in Iwaizumi that is getting harder to turn off.

“Babe, turn around,” Iwaizumi breathes quiet against Oikawa’s mouth, voice soaked with hot fervor.

Oikawa willingly flips over, reaching for the desk drawer to pull out the lube—he learned to keep a few bottles somewhere nearby since this had become a regular thing between them—and tosses it back at Iwaizumi.

It always has been a little embarrassing for Oikawa, having his lower half raised in the air, exposed and at the mercy of someone else, but there’s also a thrill in it that makes Oikawa’s cock twitch in anticipation.

Iwaizumi runs a finger across Oikawa’s hole, tight and pink, darker than the rest of him and twitching. And he leans in, replacing his finger with his tongue, earning a high pitched gasp, ripped right from Oikawa’s chest and sent to the ceiling. Iwaizumi kneads his ass and draws his tongue against the puckered skin, eliminating the rest of Oikawa’s energy left in his limbs.

Iwaizumi does it again, another long, languid stripe against the warm, tight skin and feeling Oikawa shiver. He pushes his tongue just past the entrance, fingers digging into the round of Oikawa’s ass and earning himself a well placed moan. Oikawa shifts his hips backwards, and Iwaizumi accepts him graciously, tongue pushing deeper and curling, thrusting slow and giving Oikawa a slight taste of that burn he craves so badly.

He pulls away with a loud, sloppy sound, proof of hunger and a job well done, and reaches for the bottle, drizzling it across his fingertips. His eyes take a moment—or two—to travel up the view of Oikawa hunched over the desk and gasping for breath, and he wets his lips at the sight.

When he first met Oikawa, he didn’t have to try hard to imagine what kind of beauty was hidden beneath the lab coat and slacks, but when he finally tugged Oikawa out of them, what he got was ten times better. Oikawa had definition, muscles strong and lean and limber, dimples and curves in all the right places. Oikawa had admitted once that he was a live model for art classes at a nearby studio; Iwaizumi lost a split second considering signing up.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa tilts his head back, eyes heavy and cheeks rouged.

“No, nothing,” Iwaizumi shakes his head, but Oikawa doesn’t buy it. He even has the audacity to look pompous about it, a little bold, considering his current situation.

“Be honest, you were staring at my ass.”

“I was staring at all of you,” Iwaizumi puffs, sliding a slick finger in. One isn’t enough to stir Oikawa, and the noise is a little dramatic, but Iwaizumi accepts it as both a compliment and a goal. He plans to have Oikawa make a lot more noise in a bit, noise that is raw and genuine.

He works the second finger in, butterflying kisses across Oikawa’s shoulders and feeling his long fingers wrap about Iwaizumi’s neck, pulling their bodies closer together. Oikawa smirks when he feels Iwaizumi’s bulge press against his thigh. “You know, I was thinking…”

“Hmn?” Iwaizumi hums, mouthing at the nape of Oikawa’s neck as he works his fingers further, in search of Oikawa’s sweet spot.

“About that thesis, I just got two new dissertations dropped off today and—"

“You are _not_ talking about work right now,” Iwaizumi growls, pulling back enough to let Oikawa turn his head far enough for their eyes to meet.

Oikawa shoots him a bashful look, fluttering his eyelashes to feign innocence. “Not exactly…?”

“You’re incredible. For once, would you take a break?”

“You didn’t even let me fini— _oh fuck_. Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s eyes roll shut and his lips clamp, grip against the desk tightening.

Iwaizumi smiles and leans down, nips at Oikawa’s jaw as he runs over that sweet spot with the pads of his fingers, his voice low and thick against the shell of Oikawa's ear. “Like that?”

“Yes,” Oikawa wheezes, “ _right_ there,” He slumps forward, hips shifting backward into Iwaizumi’s hand, Iwaizumi doing him no favors by speeding up the movement in his wrist, passing over Oikawa’s weak spot ruthlessly.

And as Oikawa begins to unravel beneath him, using his hand to control his volume, Iwaizumi stops, letting the build up of an orgasm die out. “You’re so cruel,” Oikawa cries, glowering at Iwaizumi while the latter turns him back around.

Oikawa goes silent at the sight of Iwaizumi rolling on a condom, coating himself sheen with lube—his whole body shudders with eager need. “What was that again?” Iwaizumi challenges, chuckling when Oikawa slides his arms around his neck laughs.

That smile stirs something in Iwaizumi’s chest, though before he let’s Oikawa see the carmine tinge that burns at the tips of his ears, he snares Oikawa’s hips, aligns himself with his entrance and punches the air from Oikawa’s lungs with one swift push.

Iwaizumi isn’t cruel enough to start moving right away, besides, he’s reveling in the half stunned, half euphoric look on Oikawa’s face that has him seeing stars. Iwaizumi presses a kiss to the corner of Oikawa’s lip, mumbling, “you okay?”

Oikawa’s grip around Iwaizumi tightens, and one word falls out of his mouth the moment he regains his air supply. “ _Move. Now_.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t waste another second, hips flexing and shifting forward and back, a tremor shaking down his body as his cock remembers the slide of burying himself into Oikawa.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi groans as the tight heat around his shaft pools a heat into his body and spreads beneath his skin like wildfire. “ _Fuck_ , you feel so good.”

“Harder…!” Oikawa’s breath begins to come in short pants, nails digging into Iwaizumi’s shoulders, forcing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss that’s mostly just sharing air. Iwaizumi’s brows knit together in pleasure as he pistons his hips forward and sets a rhythm against Oikawa’s prostate that has moans pouring from Oikawa’s lips, surely loud enough that anyone nearby will know exactly what is going on.

Iwaizumi considered denying Oikawa one more time, but his willpower dissipates with the sound of Oikawa moaning and whimpering like music to his ears, the rhythm of each thrust between his hips unraveling them both in a sweaty, sticky heap against this desk. The wood thumps and rattles, the sound barely there, drowned out by hot, sloppy kisses and harsh, labored breaths against skin. Hot air against forming bruises and thoughts murky and distorted, Oikawa twitches his hips forward and whines, “I’m gonna come, please let me—!”

Iwaizumi wraps a hand around Oikawa’s cock and tugs, timing his wrist with his hips. He knows how Oikawa likes it, quick around the tip, strong around the base, paired with his sweet spot being rammed repeatedly.

“Iwa-chan, _yes_ , there, I’m right there!”

Climax hits him like a tidal wave and his body starts to convulse, body shivering as he spills white hot into Iwaizumi’s hand. His whines are strained and high pitch, Iwaizumi won’t let him rest yet. He fucks him through his orgasm, hypersensitivity tearing something guttural from Oikawa, the noise so sweet it gives Iwaizumi the edge he needs to finish.

His shoulders shake and hips twitch as he comes, slumping his head against Oikawa’s throat. They stay like that for what feels like a while, until they both descend from the curve of the earth, the constellations in their eyes dwindling out, the white hot comet fire beneath their skin cooling down.

Iwaizumi pulls away from Oikawa to toss the condom and grab something to clean them both off with.

“Drawer,” Oikawa gestures behind him, “I would, but I don’t think I can move just yet.”

Iwaizumi shoots him an impish smile and reaches around for the drawer, pulling out towelettes. “Do you always keep this stuff nearby?” He asks, handing one to Oikawa.

“Thanks, and, yeah, since I’ve been seeing you,” Oikawa teases, “I figured we’d make it to the office at some point.”

Iwaizumi goes to retrieve his shirt from the shelf it landed on, smoothing it out and double checking his fly. He missed it once, and he’d rather not relive the horribly awkward day he had of not knowing why everyone kept giving him shifty eyes until he got home. He reaches to help Oikawa slide back into his clothes, gently massaging at his thighs and admiring his work.

“I like them,” Oikawa says, “you always make them feel so good,” he says it casually, without a lie. He loves when Iwaizumi leaves him covered in marks that he can feel beneath his clothes like a dirty secret, burning something good whenever he thinks about Iwaizumi’s mouth on him like that again.

“And _you_ need to stop leaving them so high up. My supervisor is going to question me soon,” Iwaizumi gestures to the one just below his ear, that will become purple in a bit and stay for longer than he needs.

“Can’t have anyone thinking you’re on the market,” Oikawa finally climbs down from the desk and buttons his pants, “I don’t like sharing my things.”

“You’ve expressed that before,” Iwaizumi chortles. “You know, you were saying something before, but I kinda cut you off.”

Oikawa blinks, diving into his memory banks and sifting through Iwaizumi’s body and his own until a lightbulb goes off. “Oh! Right! I got two new dissertations in today. And I was going to say, before you shoved another finger in my—"

“Oikawa.”

“Come over tonight. We could get a lot done you know. When we’re not screwing each other’s brains out, we actually do get a lot done,” Oikawa avoids his gaze as he says it, and Iwaizumi knows he’s nervous, but it’s kind of cute, seeing Oikawa look anything other than confident, or well fucked and confident.

“I’ll order takeout, and we can—"

“Sounds good.”

Oikawa shoots him a small smile. “Yeah?”

Iwaizumi reaches up and tugs at Oikawa’s fringe, giving him a gentle smile and tapping the tip of his nose. “Yeah.”

They pack up their things and pick up the mess, reorganizing the place to look like they hadn’t been in here for a good while doing things that aren’t supposed to happen on office furniture, and check to see if the coast is clear before taking off to the parking lot.

 

* * *

 

 

Oikawa jingles his keys in his palm and shifts his weight from left to right foot as he stands outside of his car. “Okay so, you have my address, right?”

Iwaizumi nods, scrolling through his phone to pull up the destination and press it into his maps. When he lifts his head, he sees Oikawa still unmoving, eyes floating around aimlessly, almost nervously. And without any real thought behind it, aside from thinking Oikawa is kind of adorable, Iwaizumi leans forward and kisses him. The kiss is chaste, but it leaves Oikawa sputtering for words.

“Wh-what was that for?”

“You looked like you wanted me to kiss you. Was I wrong?”

“Yes,” Oikawa says slowly, “but I’m not mad about it. You thought I was really cute just now, didn’t you?”

Iwaizumi shrugs his shoulders, lopsided smile betraying him before he can whip around and head for his car.

“Aw, Iwa-chan, don’t be embarrassed!”

“Get in your car, shittykawa!” Iwaizumi throws over his shoulder, refusing to look back as he gets in his car and starts the engine.

Iwaizumi used to be sure about mostly everything, including the way he felt after meeting Oikawa, and sleeping with Oikawa, but lately, where the hangouts feel cozy and the sex leaves them sated for days, he wonders if there might be something more to it. He looks across the parking lot to see Oikawa aggressively fixing his hair in the small rearview mirror, and Iwaizumi decides that it might not be so bad if things with Oikawa became more than what they were.

“You really know how to pick em, Hajime,” Iwaizumi mutters to himself and throws his car into reverse.

Alright, so he might have a crush on Oikawa. Iwaizumi isn’t sure if that’s a good or bad thing, but if it means he gets to see all of Oikawa’s expressions, and kiss each and every one of them, he might be okay with this.

  


  


  


 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay that's enough sinning go read something fluffy
> 
> Come talk to me at [tumblr](http://fukuchan.god.jp) or [twitter](http//www.twitter.com/tendousatori)!!


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